Chapter Thirty-Four
Rhian and Kellen stood in the garden behind the cafe. Beautiful ceramic heaters chased away the December chill, keeping the guests comfortable. White lights sparkled in the trees and along the pathway leading to the café door. Kellen and Denny had built an arbor and woven twinkling lights all around it. Poinsettias stood on either side adding just a touch of color.
Grandfather, her father, Denny, Deanna, and a handful of friends stood in attendance. Rhian wore a strapless, pale-blue satin wedding gown with a beaded bodice, fitted waist, and a full, flowing skirt. She wore her hair pulled back from her face with small white flowers pinned throughout. She glanced at her handsome groom in his suit and tie.
They had written their own vows and she glowed as Kellen began. He reached out and took her hand. “Rhian, you saw through my facade to the man I am deep inside. You believed in me enough to not give up on us, to fight for what you wanted. I trust you with my heart, my soul, and my life. I promise to honor you and stand by you always. I love you more than life itself, and you've made me the luckiest man alive by being my wife.”
She smiled, tears clouding her vision, and took a deep breath. “Kellen, you are everything I ever dreamed of. You are strong, gentle, kind, and accepting. You see all my flaws and love me in spite of them. You have given me your love, the most wonderful gift I could ever hope to receive. I promise to honor you and stand by you always. I am the luckiest woman alive to have you as my husband. I'll love you always.” She leaned close and whispered, “I saw through to the diamond inside.”
The preacher held out his hand with their rings in his palm.
Kellen took hers and placed it on her finger. “With this ring, I take you for my wife. To have and to hold from this day forward.”
Rhian placed the ring on his finger. “With this ring, I take you for my husband. To have and to hold from this day forward.”
“You may kiss your bride.”
Kellen pulled her into his arms, claiming her lips with his. “Always,” he whispered.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Mr. and Mrs. Kellen Slade.”
Her grandfather held their reception at the café. Her father approached them near the end of the celebration. “Can I talk to you both for a few minutes?”
“Sure what’s up?” she said, putting her arm through his.
“I have a wedding gift for you. He pulled a large envelope out of his pocket and handed it to Kellen. “I hope you’ll enjoy it.”
She kissed his cheek. “Thanks, Father!”
“Rhian!” Deanna came bounding up with a blond man in tow. “You remember Preston, don’t you?”
Shaking his hand, Rhian tried to recall the tall good-looking man. Just as she was about to say no, she realized he was the bartender at the blues club. “Nice to meet you, Preston. Thank you for coming.”
“Hey, we wouldn’t have missed it. Nice wedding and this is an awesome café. We’ll be back for dinner one evening. Deanna said the food is great here.”
Glancing over at her friend, she saw genuine happiness in her eyes. Grabbing her in a big hug, she whispered, “So this is the secret you’ve been hiding. Thank you for coming. I love you.”
“I love you, too. Now, go have fun. It’s your wedding night!” Deanna clapped her hands. “We’ll see you later.” She grabbed Preston’s hand and pulled him towards the jukebox.
“Are you ready to head home, Mr. Slade?”
“I think so, Mrs. Slade.”
When they arrived at their home, Kellen insisted on carrying her over the threshold. “Welcome home, Mrs. Slade.” He kissed her as she slid out of his arms.
“I’m so happy to be home, Mr. Slade.” She reached up and pulled him down to kiss him. “I love you.”
“Ditto. Hey, want to open some of these gifts?” Deanna and her mother had brought the gifts by earlier and placed them near the Christmas tree.
“Sure, where do we start?” she asked, looking at the stack of presents. “They look so pretty sitting around the tree.”
“Well, we could start with the envelope your dad gave us.” He pulled it out of his suit coat and handed it to her.
She opened it and held up two first class tickets to Italy. “He gave us a honeymoon to Italy. Why would he do that?”
“Because he knows you love Italy and figures you would want to go back there with me? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing's wrong. I’m so happy he came around. He left the flight open so we can visit any city we choose. There’s a note saying we can make any arrangements we want. He is covering everything.” She wiped away a tear.
“What’s wrong, baby?”
“I’m just overwhelmed with his gift. But can we afford for you to be gone for a honeymoon like this?”
“Why not? I can take some time off. Rhian, you know we won’t have to worry about money, right?”
“Of course not! But I know you worked hard to build your business, and I don’t want anything to happen because we take an extended honeymoon.”
He pulled her close and sighed. “Rhian, nothing is going to happen to my business. We don’t have to leave tomorrow. You said the tickets are open, right?”
“Right.” She nodded.
“Okay. I can finish up the job in a couple of weeks. Remember, baby, I own the business, which means I make my schedules and choose my jobs.”
She put her hands on his face. “I love you. I don’t ever want you to do anything that causes you worry or stress. I don’t want to be one of those selfish, rich girls.”
“You could never be one of those selfish, rich girls. It isn’t you.” He leaned down and kissed her softly. “Thank you for bringing the simple joys back into my life.”
“Thank you for having our wedding at Christmas time.”
“You’re very welcome, baby.” He smiled and kissed her softly. “How about we wait and open the other gifts Christmas morning? I think there’s something I’d much rather do tonight.”
“You’re too smart sometimes.”
He grabbed her, pulling her closer. “About time you realized that.”
“I’ve always realized that.” She wiggled away from him shaking her ass.
“Oh, you’re in trouble now,” he said as he stalked across the floor after her.
Rhian turned and ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck laughing. “If you call this ‘trouble,’ I hope I stay in trouble with you for the rest of my life!”
The End
About the Author
Thank you for reading Kellen and Rhian’s story. If you enjoyed their story, please consider leaving a review. Thanks!
Sharon Coady is an author who writes stories with characters that will draw you into their lives.
Join her fan page at: https://www.facebook.com/groups/797476113677281/
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Also by Sharon Coady
Contemporary Romance:
Yesterday’s Memories
Placing Her Bet
Now Maybe
YA Paranormal:
Summer of Change, Elizabeth’s Story
Mystery/Suspense:
Broken Lies
Clarity
Sweet Christmas:
Mavy’s Christmas Miracle
Melanie’s Christmas Gift
New Adult:
Last One to Know
Spicy Christmas:
Candi Kane Kisses
Adult Paranormal:
Safe With You
Hot Coffee
Donna R. Mercer
About the Story
Everyone needs a little cream in their…
“I want to buy you.” Hemi drawled to Kamiya.
Kamiya tilted her head to one side, the purple tips of her hair brushing her shoulders as she slowly blinked at him. “Last I checked that was illegal in all states incl
uding this one.”
“No, I want to buy your do-gooder reputation. I want to possess your body.”
Kamiya Anderson personified the definition of a good girl; her butt cheeks practically squeaked when she walked.
And Roman Fitzgerald Hemingway the Third needed to clean up his reputation and fast.
Coffee and Beautiful Women. Hemi’s two favorite things in life. Except for now one of those things was about to cost him the other.
Hemi’s life as a playboy was catching up to him. Too many nights of Bourbon, woman, and song were now threatening his future as CEO of Hemingway Industries. He had to find a “nice” girl the board of Hemingway Industries would approve of, get married and start a family all before the New Year. Can you order a nice girl off the internet?
A blast from the past.
Kamiya Anderson’s life consisted of one goal: to help homeless teens. It was a goal she thought Hemi shared with her since they were kids. But she quickly learned that Hemi’s priorities were in a different direction, involving long legs and huge ta-tas. She didn’t possess either one of those things.
Kamiya was just the woman that Hemi needed. Her clean, wholesome living was just the sort of thing to win over the board of Hemingway Industries. Hemi needed her. Hemi wasn’t going to let any obstacle stand in his way of having her.
Now if only he could convince her that they had a future together.
Hemi’s experience lay in wining and dining not so nice girls, but how did one win the heart of a woman who could see right through your antics? Hemi had no idea, but he was going to keep trying until he succeeded.
Heating Rating 4
Chapter One
It was a beautiful Colorado winter day, looking out the window he had only one thought: skiing. Maybe he could sneak out of the office early and hit the slopes. Though ski season was coming to an end, there was still enough powder to get in some good days of skiing. Especially on a nice day like today. If he left now, he could get in a run or two before the sun went down.
“Hemi,” He looked over at his administrative assistant, Dolores. She was an older woman. More like a mother hen with the way that she took care of him. She had no problem calling him out on his shit when she thought he was an ass. Nothing ever discombobulated Dolores. She was a professional no matter the situation. Dolores was indispensable to Hemi after all of these years of working together. He was glad she agreed to stay on with him as he transitioned to the job of CEO.
Screaming ex-girlfriend making a crying scene in the front office, Dolores handled it quickly and efficiently. Chief Financial Officer hysterical at the state of the stock market? Dolores was on scene with coffee and a copy of HI’s financial portfolio pointing out how his deft planning had given HI the financial stability to handle such fluctuations in the market.
Dolores was superwoman in sensible shoes and pearls.
“Yes, Dolores.” He put aside the pile of paperwork turning him cross-eyed. It was time that they updated the compensation schedule for their employees. They worked hard for Hemingway Industries, and they needed to keep the best of the best workers. To do that they needed to attract them with a competitive compensation plan. He had several ideas that he wanted to present to his father and the board about retaining their bright and eager workforce.
“Deuce wants to see you in his office right away.” She informed him.
He gave her a slight frown. “Do you know what it is about?”
“Nope, not a clue,” she cheerfully informed him. “Also, I’ve scheduled the next couple of Charity Pitch Days. They filled up faster than I anticipated. Your team been notified, and the time blocked out on your schedule.”
“Thanks,” he flashed her a smile. She just rolled her eyes at him as she exited his office.
Yep, heading to the slopes sounded like a far better plan than being trapped in his father’s office waiting for a lecture. Lectures, the reason he was forever summoned to his father’s presences.
Even now he wondered why he was having flashbacks to his teen years.
Wine, women, and songs. He needed to experience those three things. Those were what made life worth living. It was Bourbon, women, and songs, but the words didn’t flow as well as wine, women, and songs. Nothing like a good glass of Bourbon at the end of a hard work week to bring the weekend into perspective.
“Roman Fitzgerald Hemingway the Third.” His father’s tone competed with the winter frost curling up the windowpane. Hemi cringed. He touched the tip of his nose to feel if an icicle had formed on it.
Yep, there it was. The tone caused his balls to crawl up inside of him looking for warmth. After all this time it still managed to make him feel like a little boy caught being naughty.
Many things improved with age, this feeling wasn’t one of them.
Wistfully, he looked at the fantastic view of the mountains outside the window, stepping into the office instead of heading for the slopes as he wanted to. Snowshoeing in the backcountry called to him. Hell, being trapped in an avalanche would be preferable to being back in this office.
One question rang through his head, what did he do now to upset his father?
Breathing?
“Roman Fitzgerald Hemingway, the Second,” he responded in an equally cool tone meandering across the huge expanse of office space to slouch in a chair in front of his father’s desk.
The corner of his mouth twitched upward as his father’s scowl. Hemi idly wondered if anyone had told his father if you keep that expression it would freeze that way? Would he react if he told him? It used to be more intimidating, his father’s expressions. Until he passed him in height. Somehow, he just couldn’t fear someone trying to glare up at him.
Height did have its advantages.
His father successfully used subtle power plays on people who sat in the negotiating seat across from him to gain some advantages. The same seat Hemi currently occupied. He had it down to an art; even the chairs were designed to intimidate To make the person sitting in them feel vulnerable so that when Deuce hit them hard for whatever concession or trade negotiation, he was after they would be predisposed to giving it to him without a fight. It was a tactic he used to keep Hemingway Industries strong. A tactic that worked on everyone except for Hemi who knew that underneath that tough exterior was a caring person who was concerned with the wellbeing of everyone at HI. Anyone who sat in them would be approximately two inches shorter than Roman Fitzgerald Hemingway, the Second. This usually benefited him with everyone, except Hemi.
Hemi’s father was a shrewd businessman. He never shirked teaching Hemi the ins and outs of the business founded by their family. It just piqued him that his stubborn son took the knowledge and crossed any boundaries in his way. Deuce taught Hemi how to swim, and then Hemi turned the lesson into a midnight swim after everyone had gone to bed. Or like he took the knowledge of his father teaching him how to change a tire as an opportunity to take his Porsche out cruising with his cousin Brad using it to impress the girls at sixteen.
Hemi was anything but a traditionalist. With their history, the frown on his father’s face was a familiar one. He grew up causing its appearance on any day that ended in “y”.
Growing taller than Deuce was just an event in a long list of misdeeds and adventures responsible for the frown lines on his father’s face. It irked Roman Fitzgerald Hemingway the Second that Hemi was taller. Deuce considered being shorter than his opponent a distinct disadvantage.
Sometimes in life, Hemi and Deuce were just that. Adversaries.
He remembered emulating his father when he was younger. Standing in front of his mirror, practicing frowning at himself with that stern expression on his face. To this day he still wasn’t able to get the expression right, no matter how many times he tried.
“This is an example of why we are having this talk.” His father started. This wasn’t new. In thirty-two years, he experienced many of these lectures. He didn’t even fight it. Instead, Hemi settled in for another one. He adm
itted, his father’s chairs were comfortable.
“Do you know why I asked to speak to you?” Hemi didn’t make the mistake of answering the rhetorical question.
Oh goodie, the lecture was beginning.
He learned that lesson long ago. Hemi glanced into his father’s eyes, then back down. Maybe he should twiddle his thumbs and really get Deuce excited. He looked at Deuce’s forehead, at the vein throbbing there, better not. His mother would kill him if he gave his father an aneurysm.
“I called you to my office to discuss your future.” His eyes never left his father as Deuce started pacing in front of the giant window. It was a beautiful view of the Rocky Mountains. Snow still capped the highest peaks, framed beautifully against the deep blue of the sky. Fluffy clouds lazily hovered around the tallest of peaks. The sun reflected off the whiteness beckoning Hemi to come out and play.
Snowboarding. Hemi’s mind drifted.
I ought to hit the slopes this weekend. Pick up a snow bunny or two.
Hot coffee and snow bunnies. Heat and spice. What a combination. Two of his favorite things in life.
“Hemi at some point I am going to retire. When that happens, you will be in charge of the business.” Hemi’s attention returned to his father. “That means every person we employ’s future will be in your hands. And frankly, I don’t know if I can trust you with the responsibility.”
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